Confrontation
by Triple Soul
Summary: Sam's decision to confront his past mistakes leads to a dangerous hostage situation where he is the victim and the gunman has nothing to lose...
1. Prologue

A.N: My first Flashpoint fanfic. I actually know nothing about guns and nothing about military engagements etc. So this is just my imagination… any factual errors are my bad. Correct me if you find any, please.

This is just a short prologue by the way.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable people are owned by CTV. I do not own anything.

XXX

"_We were cleared to shoot," Sam's voice broke. "He wasn't supposed to be there… We were cleared to shoot…"_

XXX

_(Dream)_

_It was that dream again._

_He was back in Afghanistan, lying on his stomach with his partner Scott Gilman beside him, who was putting together his sniper rifle as fast as humanly possible. Sam adjusted his own rifle, pushing away at some bushes that were in his way. _

_They were yards away from a stronghold and his mission was simple. Take it out. _

_He squinted into his telescopic sight and shifted his hand slightly right, his gun perfectly in place for the shot.  
_

"_Everything's in order," Scott whispered to Sam. "All ready. Just waiting for the clear."_

_Sam nodded and pressed his radio. "Are we clear?"_

"_Sit tight for a second, boys," the male voice replied. "Intel is still coming through."_

"_Copy," Sam bristled. He was never one to sit still. Even as a kid, he had to move around, he had to do something with his hands. It was one of the many factors that contributed to his quick trigger finger. Of course, it was sometimes a good thing, sometimes a bad thing. _

_He saved many innocent lives because he was quick to react. He had also put lives at danger because of the same brash attitude and his shoot-first-ask-later morale. He had been warned by his superiors twice already, so he knew he had to be more patient and wait this one out. Three strikes and you're out, they had cautioned._

"_Clear," the male voice through the radio responded. "You got that?"_

"_Yessir," Scott said and nodded at Sam._

_Sam grinned, a sense of relief settling through him as he aimed and fired. _

_Years of experience helped him recover quickly and expertly from the recoil and he quickly aimed again and fired.  
_

_Suddenly, something pulled him forward, through the air right into the stronghold. And he stopped right in front of a familiar face. A face darkened by the sun, framed by short brown hair and set with a pair of piercing green eyes. A familiar pang hit Sam's chest – it was Matt Johnston. _

"_No…"_

_Matt was staring straight ahead, a smile set on his face when it suddenly froze and he was hit backwards and fell straight to the ground. A reverberating bang sounded through the whole floor. _

_It was suddenly silent._

_It was as if suddenly there was nobody there but him and Matt. Nothing registered – nothing but those green eyes. _

_And the red bullet hole in between them._

_(End Dream)_

Sam bolted awake, adrenaline and fear pounding through his veins. He curled up on his side and tried to control his breathing, to slow his heartbeat. A tear fell from his eye so he quickly wiped it away, gaining control of his emotions.

"Damn it," he muttered and sat up. He reached for a lone photo on his bedside table. It showed a family picture with two young men, one only slightly older with his arm around the shoulder of the younger one, and their mother and father over their shoulder. All four of them were smiling brightly and it seemed like the epitome of a perfect and happy family.

It was a family picture of Matt's family a year ago, during his leave right before going to Afghanistan. They were a close bunch. Matt had told Sam that he and his brother Tyler were like best friends. Tyler was two years younger than Matt and the two were practically inseparable during their childhood years. Their friendship survived throughout high school and even university when Matt left for Alberta from Toronto.

"_You would've liked him,"_ Matt had said to him. _"He was like you – brash and enthusiastic, liked all those extreme sports." _

Sam gripped the picture tightly, causing it to wrinkle slightly. He hadn't got the nerve to try and find them now. What was he supposed to say? "Hi, I'm Sam Braddock, a friend of Matt's. You remember me? We met that one time last year before we left. Well, I'm here to say I killed your son. Oh it was an accident and I'm _terribly_ sorry…"

As if.

He ruined the picture perfect family. He had murdered his friend…

Damn it. He wiped away another tear that escaped.

Sam put away the picture and carefully flattened the wrinkles he had made. Then, he slowly slid back into his bed, curling up on his side and away from the picture.

"I'm so sorry Matt…"

XXX

End of Prologue.

Review?


	2. Chapter 1

I do not own Flashpoint.

XXX

The next morning, Sam could barely keep from yawning as he walked into the SRU building. He had only gotten three hours of sleep last night, and along with the four or five hours he had gotten the nights before, his eyes were feeling like lead. As he stepped out of the elevator and headed towards the men's change room, Kira smiled at him brightly.

"Good morning Sam!" she greeted.

"Hey," Sam half-muttered. "You're energetic today."

She laughed. "And you're not."

He smiled back at her. "I guess I look pretty worn out huh."

She gave him a worried look. "I don't think I've ever seen you take a break Sam. Maybe you should take a week off or something. Get more than two hours of sleep a night. Go see your family."

The last words sparked a flame of anger in him, but he quenched it quickly before it showed on his face. "Maybe."

"You look like you need it," Kira said.

"Thanks," he said dryly. "My shift's starting really soon so I've got to go gear up and train."

"Right," she said. "I'll see you around Sam." She stopped herself and then corrected, "or actually, I don't want to see you around. Get some rest!"

He grinned at her and continued to walk to the change room, greeting a few people he was acquainted with shortly before walking through the door.

Spike was by his locker, slipping his shoes off. He looked up when Sam walked in. "Did Sam have a Samtastic sleep today?" He chirped.

Sam grinned at the energetic brunet and greeted, "Morning, Spike."

Spike glanced at him from his locker as Sam began to strip his morning clothes. "What? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this fine morning?"

"Huh?" Sam looked up at him, confused.

"You look like you haven't slept in weeks Sammy," Spike replied.

Sam shrugged. "I've been a little over-energetic these days. When I get to bed, I can't get a wink of sleep. You know how it is."

"Uh huh," Spike said suspiciously. "Well, we'll see how you do then. We're out back practicing long range."

Feeling Spike's suspicious gaze on him, Sam felt a desperate need to get the other off his back. He needed to prove that he was fine, that everything was normal. "Another bet Spike. How about it?"

Spike laughed. "Don't underestimate me Sammy boy. You're too tired to beat me."

"Am not," Sam argued childishly. "Besides I can probably still beat you half asleep."

"Alright, you're on," Spike said and slapped Sam's outstretched hand. "Equipment duty for a week."

Sam grinned. This was what he needed - a competition to keep his mind off his nightmares, even for a little while. He needed a little rest from the guilt, from the memories and from Matt. Just for a little while.

XXX

"Dammit," Spike moaned as Sam shot the winning point. The results were close – closer than normal - but Sam still won by almost 6 points.

"Lock and loaded," Sam said grinning. "Looks like Spike here has extra duty for the next week and I don't!"

"I was close," Spike whined. "Next time, I should get a handicap or something. I specialize in bombs, not shooting!"

Sam laughed. "Well, Spikey, you should've thought of that before you shook my hand." He made an exaggerated motion of looking around. "Oh, what's happening now? We're finished shooting practice? What's next? Oh, equipment duty? Well, Spike, have fun!"

"Oh ha ha ha," Spike said dryly. "You're hilarious Sammy. Don't see you having so much fun any other time."

Sam slapped Spike on the back, the grin never leaving his face. "You just bring out the laughter in me."

"You should've known better Spike!" Wordy called from behind them. "We all learned our lesson last time."

Spike just groaned. Both Sam and Wordy grinned and gave each other high-fives behind Spike's back. Ed watched them as they left the shooting range, a frown slowly making its way onto his face.

Greg approached him. "Something up?"

"Sarge – did you notice something weird with Sam?" Ed asked.

Jules paused in the middle of her walk beside Ed. "He's been a little distracted these days, but that's understandable. It's closing in on to the third anniversary since he left Afghanistan."

Greg nodded. "I've been meaning to ask him about that. Nobody leaves the JTF2 without having a really good reason."

Greg's words pulled Ed back three years ago after that particular hard case that had ended with a dead civilian. He clearly remembered Sam disobeying his order during that case and his fuse had just blown when Sam made an insensitive comment.

He had pushed Sam against the van, angry and frustrated at the blonde's lack of cooperation and also, a little bit afraid about an earlier warning about Sam. But then, Sam had guessed correctly the reason why Ed was so uptight about him. He had answered in a broken voice, eyes glassy with unshed tears and pain, and his answer haunted Ed.

"_We were taking down a stronghold 1500 meters away. The rec team was done, we were cleared to fire. We went down to do IDs and one of them was my buddy Matt…he shouldn't have been there… I was cleared to fire."_

Jules caught the look in his eyes. "You know what happened," she said, her tone unconsciously accusing.

Ed met her gaze unflinchingly. "It's not my place to tell."

She held it, her gaze turning a little bit hard. After a pause, she sighed, sounding almost pained. "You're right. It's just … I had hoped that he trusted us – trusted me – enough to tell us, you know?"

Ed nodded. "It's got nothing to do with you Jules. He told me in a moment of anger."

Greg continued looking at the entrance to the SRU building, watching Sam walk through the doors. "I'm going to talk to him today. You saw how he shot today. He didn't even get one bulls-eye."

"That's really unlike Sam," Jules agreed. "For the last few anniversaries he was distracted, but never to this point that he would miss. His accuracy is usually scary."

"You know what, Sarge?" Ed said. "Let me go talk to him. I think I know what this is about."

"Yeah sure Eddie," Greg said. "Remember to watch your temper."

"I'm watching it," Ed replied and started walking back to the building. Greg and Jules followed immediately. "I promise I'll keep it in check."

"You do that."

XXX

End of Chapter 2.

I'm really sorry about the long wait. This chapter isn't as long as I hoped it would be, but now I've pretty much mapped out how the story's going to go, so the next chapter shouldn't take as long.

I hope you've enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 2

**A.N:** An emotional chapter ahead. Anyway, did anyone catch that Matt's name has been magically changed to Ben in the episode "Behind Blue Lines"? Or am I missing something? Because I'm pretty sure that Sam says his bestie's name was Matt back in episode 3 or something. Well, I'm not going to change it because it's too troublesome LOL. So his name's going to stay Matt here.

XXX

Sam could feel Ed's eyes on him the whole day.

Ever since the morning shooting practice, he could feel Ed's hard gaze on his back, suspicious and worried at the same time. He couldn't shrug it off. It was like a tickle at the back of his neck, and to be honest, it was pissing him off. He tried not to let it show, refusing to let Ed see the turmoil in him. But he had a feeling Ed already knew that something was wrong.

Ed was waiting for him by the exit of the change room by the time he was done showering. It was pretty late already, so everyone had already headed home. Sam had stayed a little later in an attempt to avoid the oncoming conversation with Ed. Obviously, it didn't work.

Sam avoided Ed's eyes and just went to his locker. Opening it, he quickly shoved his clothes into his bag and took it out. He put on his jacket stiffly, took his bag and headed out the exit. He had hoped foolishly that Ed would just let him go, but of course, his team leader didn't.

"Sam." Ed's hand gripped onto Sam's arm tightly. "We need to talk buddy."

Sam paused, feeling the hope die in his chest. "Sure. What's up?"

"Sam." There was that warning tone in Ed's voice.

Sam felt that pressure he always did under that tone of voice - the pressure to tell the truth, to pour everything out to Ed. He bit his lip, trying to fall away from the pressure. This was something he knew that Ed wouldn't understand. The guilt, the pain, the endless nights of tears…

"Look, I've got it under control," he hears himself say. "It's just been stressful these past days. It'll be over soon."

"Sam," Ed said softly. "Sam, look. It might be over in a few days, but it'll come back the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. I need to know that it's over forever."

"Ed, I can't do that," Sam said, a bit of his desperateness slipping into his voice. "I can't just forget – "

"Not forget," Ed said. "Confront it and move on. Do what you need to do to forgive yourself-"

Sam could hardly believe his ears. "Forgive myself? Did you forget what happened?"

"Sam, you were cleared to fire – "

"_I shot my best friend!"_

His exclamation brought on the silence. Sam was breathing heavily. He had put all his emotion into that one line, into that one sentence that had brought all the guilt he had tried to forget this day all back into his heart.

"Do you know what it's like?" Sam asked, his voice broken. "Do you know what it's like to be the one who pulled the trigger on your best friend? To be the one who ended his life?"

"Sam…" There was nothing Ed could say.

"Do you know how it feels to want to take revenge?"

By this time, tears were pouring out of Sam's eyes. He just couldn't contain them any longer. His words left Ed feeling, oddly, only partly surprised. He knew the thought must've passed Sam's mind quite a few times especially the days following the shooting, but for Sam to actually admit it out loud… he must've seriously considered it a few times.

"Sam," Ed said calmly. "You're right. I don't know what it feels like. But I do know this: you need to move on and forgive yourself. You were cleared to fire – you were given permission to shoot. They told you the rec team was out. It's not your fault."

Sam shook his head. "I still killed him, that's the bottom line."

"If they actually thought you were responsible, you would not be here in front of me," Ed said softly. "You would be on trial Sam. But you're not. The military doesn't hold you responsible for Matt's death. Then why are you blaming yourself?"

"Because," Sam said brokenly. "I was the one who pulled the trigger, not some blank-faced guy on the other side of the war. It was me who put the bullet in his chest."

Ed sighed, not completely sure what he was supposed to say that he hasn't already. "You need to take some time off buddy." He pauses for a moment, thinking quickly on his feet. "I know your relationship with your parents is strained, but you should go see them."

"Strained is an understatement," Sam said. "He doesn't give a shit about me." Ed doesn't need to ask who the _he_ was. "He only covered it up because he's afraid it's going to taint his name."

That's all his dad ever cared about – the family name, the family reputation. His dad never really cared about him. His mom was the only one who cared about him, who cried for him, who took care of him when he came back half-broken. But his dad, his _dad_ kicked him out of the house.

"_You're a disgrace kid! I never had a son – my real son wouldn't have shot his own comrade-!" _

His heart flared out in pain. His own father had disowned him for the mistake, what other evidence does he need to prove that it was his fault? But Ed – Ed said it wasn't, maybe Ed cared about him, maybe the team cared about him.

Sam sucked in a breath, controlling the hope in his heart. "I can do this. I don't need the time off; I can still do my job."

Ed had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at Sam's stubbornness. "Have you looked in the mirror recently Sam? You look like hell."

"I'll get over it soon Ed, please," Sam said. "I need to do _something_; I can't just sit around and think about it. I have to – I have to…"

"Come on Sam," Ed said, trying in vain to squish that little nudge of annoyance. "Take some time off. Do this for yourself, for us. You can't just carry this burden for the rest of your life."

"I can do that without taking a break," Sam said. "I don't need-"

"We're not kicking you out Sam," Ed said, a bit of a hard edge coming back to his voice. "Your spot will still be here when you're back."

"That's not the problem," Sam bites out.

"Look Sam, you need to deal with this sooner or later. The later you deal with it, the more ramifications it'll have. Take a week off and deal with it."

"I just told you this won't affect my work! Why are you insisting that I leave?" Sam practically yelled out. He internally pleaded that Ed's answer would be because he was actually worried about him.

"Because, Sam, it's already affecting your work!" Ed yelled back. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? The morning range practice – you didn't even get _one_ bulls-eye Sam."

"I still beat Spike," Sam said. He flushed a little, the words coming off more childish than he had intended.

"Spike isn't our sniper," Ed said. "_You are_."

Sam didn't have a rebuttal, so Ed plowed ahead.

"We need you in top shape Sam. If there was a case today, if we needed you as our sharp-shooter, we need to be able to trust you. We need you to be one hundred percent accurate."

The hope in Sam's heart took a dive. He laughed internally at himself. Of course. This was about work. Ed wasn't looking out for Sam's well-being - he was looking at how it'll affect his work.

_Dumb_, he berated himself. _Why would he care? Your own father doesn't care why should Ed? You're so stupid for even considering it._

"Yes sir," Sam said, his voice sounding terrifyingly empty. "I'll go take the week off."

He shook Ed's hand off his arm roughly and walked out of the room. Ed stared after him, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. Something was wrong here. "Wait, Sam-!"

But Sam continued walking and didn't turn around to face him. His shoulders were held high, stiff and cold, and his stance was pure military.

Ed looked after him, confusion swirling in his head. _What did I say?_

Sighing, he sat down heavily onto the bench and pulled out his cell. _Well, at least I got him to take the week off. _He quickly pressed speed-dial 3 on his phone and waited patiently.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Greg, it's me."

"_Ed. How did the talk with Sam go?"_

"He's taking the week off," Ed said. "But something's wrong Greg. I think I said something that set him off."

"_What? Was he angry?"_

"No, that's the problem," Ed muttered. "He was cold. Empty almost."

Ed could hear Greg rubbing his head on the other end, just like he always did when he was thinking or stressed. It was a sign of how heavily Sam's problem weighed on Greg's mind.

"_I'll talk to him when he gets back next week. There's nothing else we can do here Ed," _Greg said finally. _"There's a lot we don't know about Sam's time in Afghanistan. Whatever you said that set him off… that's not your fault okay?"_

"Got it boss," Ed said. "Are you still coming over tonight for dinner?"

Greg laughed. _"When have you ever known me to say no to Sophie's dinner?"_

Ed grinned, feeling relieved already. "I'll see you tonight Sarge."

XXX

Sam slammed the door to his small apartment roughly. It's been a hard day. It was so tough holding in all the turmoil, all the anger and pain so that nobody would know. But Ed was too observant, and if Ed knew, Sarge knew too. And the talk with Ed had just somehow loosed everything inside.

He tossed his bag onto the floor beside his bed and just flung himself onto the bed. He doesn't even feel like doing anything else but sleep away all his troubles now. He felt too sick to the stomach to even consider eating.

Sam managed to get the energy to roll over and snatch the picture off his bedside table. Looking at _his_ smile made his heart freeze. _He_ was alive then – alive and happy. But now… now he's dead, buried six feet under with half his chest gone.

He thought back to what Ed said. It was true; he was stuck in the past. He wasn't able to move on from his military past. To move on, he needed to confront it. He needed to go see Matt again, apologize and be forgiven.

But Matt was gone, he thought to himself, flinching. Matt was gone forever. So… so he had to go to the closest thing. Matt's family.

_Ed's right_, Sam thought as he lied on his bed staring at Matt's smiling face. _It's been three years. I need to move on now. I can't go through life like this. I need to confront this issue now. Maybe then, then I could really become a part of the team. Maybe then people will really start to care for me…_

It was decided then. Sam would go and see Matt's family tomorrow.

He was going to end it.

XXX

End of Chapter Three.

Yeah, this is a pretty emo chapter. Sam's pretty depressed at this stage. I think it's in character, but maybe I've got his character all wrong… But if I remember clearly, whenever he talks about Matt and stuff, his voice always breaks (my heart breaks with him).

Review please? More reviews = faster update!


	4. Chapter 3

**AN:** i'm not dead! lol. life's been hectic and my muse for flashpoint kind of died when i couldn't get my weekly fix of flashpoint. i had to spark it with repeated reruns haha. and my computer crashed so my outline disappeared D:

anyway, enjoy! (warning: pretty heavy angst).

XXX

_Sam was there again - in the burning desert where it was scorching hot but he couldn't feel a thing. There was sand beneath him, rolling up and up, so much that it would blur his vision and burn his eyes, at least that's what he told himself he should feel. He was holding his trusty sniper rifle and everything was in place again. Scott was nodding at him._

_"All clear."_

No,_ Sam thought_, this isn't right. Stop. Matt's in there - Stop! Not clear not clear not clear-

_Except he couldn't control himself. He couldn't control anything at all. His fingers tightened on the trigger and all he could do was scream at himself, _Stop, no don't do it Matt's in there he's going to die dammit don't pull the trigger look carefully can't you see him can't you see -

_The shot rang out, echoing over and over again in the empty desert. _

No, not again, Matt don't die, _Sam thought but it was all in vain because Matt was dead again. There he was, standing six feet in front of him (how he got there Sam doesn't know) shining green eyes wide open and brown hair wind-swept. His face was pale and slack and right in the middle of his forehead - the bullet._

_Except he wasn't dead because he blinked. And his eyes slid to Sam._

This isn't happening, he's dead, why isn't he dead?

_"Hey buddy!" dead-Matt said. "It's a beautiful day to die isn't it? The sun's shining, bright and hot. My body would smell for days. Probably the best day to get betrayed by my best friend. The one person I trusted would end up shooting me. How's that for irony?"_

_He laughed, but it sounded wrong. It was too happy, too unnatural. Sam couldn't move a muscle, but his mind was screaming_, I'm so sorry, I didn't know -

_"How could you? I thought we had each other's back. I'd die for you and you'd die for me... except I died because of you. What happened to our brotherhood? Was that all a lie? Are you a liar Sam? I think you are. You lied to me about our friendship. And you're lying to your so-called friends at the SRU about who you are. They think you're a patriotic sniper who quit the JTF2 but they're wrong aren't they? You were kicked out because you're a murderer Sam."_

_Sam wished he could say something, apologize, scream, anything to get something across to Matt. But he couldn't, and all he could do was think_ I'm so sorry, please forgive me.

_"Forgive you? I don't think so. You killed me Sam, you have to suffer the consequences."_

_Sam looked up and all he could see was the cruel smile on Matt's face. The dead man raised his arm, his hand clutching a pistol. _

_"You know what they say... an eye for an eye, a life for a life."_

_The shot rang out -_

XXX

Sam woke up, gasping for breath. His hand flew to his chest, searching for the non-existent bullet hole. He sat up slowly, one hand still clutching his chest, the other sweeping through his damp hair.

"Fuck," he swore, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

He glanced at his bedside table clock. _3:28_. Groaning, he peeled the blanket off of himself and staggered to his bathroom. He splashed some cold water onto his face, relishing the sting of the water hitting his heated skin. Feeling refreshed, Sam left the bathroom and collapsed back onto his bed, his breathing still ragged.

He couldn't keep this up. It was too draining, this repetitive cycle of lack-of-sleep and nightmares. But how do you move on from something like this? Not just a death of a best friend, but the death of a best friend at your own hands. Do you ever get over it?

Sam steeled himself. He has to get over it. He can't live like this, with the guilt as a constant companion all the days of his life. But he deserves it, doesn't he? Deserves the suffering, deserves the sleepless nights, deserves the tears, deserves the guilt. it's the least he should get for committing such a big mistake. For killing a man that was so much better than himself.

He groaned and slid to his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of prescribed sleeping pills. He rarely used them, just because he felt like he should remember. Dreams (nightmares really) and memories are the only thing he had left of Matt. But he really needed the sleep so he popped two and dry-swallowed them and laid back down on his back.

Sleep washed over him in under a minute.

XXX

The second time Sam woke up it was nearing noon. He stretched contently, feeling so much better than he had in the past week. He was starting to feel glad that Ed made him take this vacation time. It was so relaxing and peaceful, a huge contrast to the high-strung lifestyle he led with the SRU.

But this vacation was given for a reason, Sam had to remind himself, so he forced himself out of bed and got ready quickly. He tried to ignore the way his hands shook while he dressed.

It's going to be okay, he reassured himself. You're doing the right thing - they deserve to know. They need closure just as much as he did, so he's going to try and give it.

With his renewed confidence in mind, he ate a quick breakfast and searched the telephone book for _Evelyn Johnston_. He took down the address on a scrap piece of paper and hurried out of his apartment. He needed to do this before his confidence ran out.

The car ride to Matt's old house was spent in complete silence. Sam usually put on the radio when he's in the car alone to fill in the emptiness, but this time, he needed a clear head. He needed the quiet to think about what he was going to say. Is there a right way to tell someone you had killed their son? Probably not.

By the time Sam had reached the rundown house, he was already thinking about leaving. What would this accomplish? Maybe nothing, but it might help them cope. They deserve the truth.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before ringing the doorbell. He could hear the loud creaking of someone walking on old hardwood floors as he or she came to the door.

"Coming!" A female voice called out.

A moment later, the door opened and a friendly, elderly woman smiled up at him. His throat suddenly clogged up at her smile. _If only she knew..._

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Um yeah," Sam said quickly. "I'm... Sam Braddock. Do you remember me?" She tilted her head and scrutinized him. "I'm... I was a friend of Matt's."

At the name, she completely sobers up. "Oh, yes. I remember." Her eyes misted up. "He brought you here to meet us the day before you left."

Sam remembered that day. He remembered thinking how it was so unfair that Matt had such a perfect family - a loving mother, an accepting dad, a wonderful brother - and all Sam had were two people he would much rather not see. He remembered wondering why Matt would risk his life when he had such an amazing family, why would he risk it?

He closed his eyes away from the memory and smiled weakly at the woman. "Sorry about the sudden visit-"

"No! It's fine," she said and stepped aside to let him in. "Come on in. I was just going to make some lunch. Would you like some?"

"I just ate thank you," he said and quickly stepped out of his sneakers to follow her in. The house was vastly different than he remembered. Back then, everything was crisply clean and full of life. Now, it's like the house had lost its life. The house was messy and dirty, with darkened tiles and spotted hardwood floors.

"I'm sorry about this," she said, as if reading his mind. "After what happened with Matt, keeping this place clean just didn't seem to have a meaning. What a silly reason."

"Everyone deals somehow," Sam said and sat down when she motioned him to. She placed a glass of water in front of him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. "Now then, not that I don't appreciate this, but why did you come?"

The words were at the tip of his tongue, but Sam just couldn't bring himself to say them. "Just checking up on you. It was what Matt would've wanted," he quickly lied.

Mrs. Johnston smiled sadly. "He was such a wonderful boy. Always thinking of others first."

"Yeah," Sam agreed softly. "He was an amazing person."

"It's been three years and it's been a hard three years, but I'm dealing with it," she said. "It's just so hard you know? With Roger gone, and Tyler off to the army as well."

Sam was surprised. "Tyler went into the army after what happened."

"You would've thought Matt's... death would turn him from the army for good, but Tyler was adamant. He seemed to think that this way, he could avenge his brother or something. He had always been brash, never thinking, always feeling. Nothing I said could hinder him so he just left."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Oh honey, it's not your fault," she said, but Sam knew it was. It was completely his fault. "Matt chose this path, and we all knew the risks. We should've been ready for this."

"Nobody should be prepared for this," Sam said.

"You're right," she said. "But that's just how things are sometimes. I got through this, damaged, but still whole."

"How about Mr. Johnston? And Tyler?" Sam couldn't help asking. He had to know.

Mrs. Johnston looked down at her own cup of coffee and sighed. "Roger didn't take the news well. He was angry at the world for taking away his precious son and we were all hurting but I think he was hurting the most. He had encouraged Matt to join, and was bragging about his assignment in the JTF2. So it hit him the hardest. He turned to alcohol. I - I just watched him fall apart because I couldn't deal with his grief, I was dealing with m y own, so I just watched. Then one day, he went to a bar and didn't come back. " She wiped a tear from her eye. "Liver failure."

Sam felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Another one dead because of him.

"And Tyler was just pissed," Mrs Johnston continued, not aware of Sam's sudden change of demeanour. "We never got any details of how Matt died, and Tyler couldn't deal with that so he joined himself, made it to JTF2. He wanted revenge for Matt's death, for his father's death. I think he also wanted to go to find out the truth. But he never found it and so he's still struggling."

Her words pierced Sam's heart and he felt himself choke up. _I have to tell her I have to tell her -_

"It would help so much if we knew how it happened," she begged him. "You were on his team - you would know. Please Sam. I just want Tyler home."

"I - " Sam stuttered. _Just say it, just say it. Don't be a coward Sam_. "It was an accident," he whispered softly.

"What?"

"We were taking out a stronghold. A-and Matt was part of the recon team. We were told that it was all clear to shoot, that the team was out of the stronghold. We were told it was safe to open fire," Sam said, voice shaking almost as much as his hands. His throat and eyes were burning from the tears. _Oh god I'm so sorry_. "I - I was cleared to shoot, I'm so sorry, so sorry."

The coffee cup clattered from her hands to the floor. The cup shattered with a loud noise and Sam looked up into the shocked eyes of Mrs. Johnston. "W-what?" she whispered. "What are you saying?"

"I... I was the one who shot him," he confessed. "I'm so sorry. We were cleared to shoot-" _stop making excuses you murderer-_

"Why would you?" she asked softly. "I don't understand - you were his best friend!"

"We were cleared to shoot," he said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. "I'm so sorry Mrs. Johnston please-"

"Get out."

Sam stopped talking at the pure coldness of her tone. "I didn't want it to happen, you have to believe me!"

"Get out!" She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You killed my son you murderer!" And she stood up so fast her chair fell over but she didn't seem to care. "You disgusting monster! You killed my son!"

The guilt that had held onto him tightly throughout the whole conversation completely overwhelmed him at her words. _Murderer_. He got up quickly onto his shaking legs. "I'm really sorry," he said, tears streaming down his own cheeks.

He left before she could start throwing things at him.

He drove back to his own apartment, hands shaking and vision blurring so much that it was a miracle he hadn't crashed. He was shaking so much, he was overwhelmed by the pain and guilt, held back by only his will.

Once he parked the car, he got out and collapsed by the parking lot's wall. He just let it all out, until his sleeves were wet with tears and his knuckles bloody from punching the wall.

XXX

end of chapter four.


End file.
